The Necromancer with the Rogue Thrall
by Gabriela Romero
Summary: A necromancer with dubious motives brings Bankotsu back to life. She needs to kill the Man with Many Faces, he wishes to have yet another life. Their pact leads to an adventure in Feudal Japan, where they clash with Inuyasha, his gang, and much darker enemies. Along the way feelings unravel, and both might be faced with the ultimate sacrifice yet. Mature for language and content.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: haha! How mad am I? Starting new stories when I have so much shit going on in my life? Well here it is! I started this as a 30 minute exercise and got carried away. Think of all the possibilities!  
Here's the gist of it:  
Genre: Romance/Action/Adventure/Drama/Fuckedupness  
Main Characters and Pairing: BankotsuxOC, Inuyasha gang, etc etc  
Rating: Mature for language and adult themes and sexual and explicit content when the time arises.  
Good news?: It'll be a pretty simple and linear story, that if I get the proper feedback on, I will be able to finish rather quickly. After all, this was made to flex my writing muscles~

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**The Necromancer with the Rogue Thrall**

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**_Chapter #1_**

The air was thick with smoke and anticipation. Thick fumes of incense and burnt coal and steam swirled about, a naked man on a stone bed the root of it all. It had started from mere bones, but the dark magic in the room propagated the man's reconstruction. A sort of backwards decomposition had ensued, until he was rebuilt in the flesh.

The necromancer in the room circled the stone bed, admiring her creation. She was covered from head to toe in a robe of the richest blue, which was now stained brown around the sleeves from the blood and the dirt and the gunk. But the worst was now over. For seven days and seven nights she chanted and spat curses and spells, and little by the little the man was reformed to the form before her.

"_By the might of darkness and the power of my blood, Bankotsu of the Band of Seven, take my breath_," She had leant over his mouth, the stench of dead flesh overwhelming her already clouded sense of smell. Her purpled lips hovered over his mouth and in a surge of wild magic the cadaver before her stole all her breath away.

The action left her dizzy, her darkened world spinning, and she fell on a heap by the floor to his side. The body that had once died and rotted came to life. It coughed and spat frantically, as if this breath would be his last. The necromancer remained by her spot on the dirt ground, listening intently to his terrified breathing, also terrified herself. Her dark magic was working, but everything could fall apart at any minute. The first few breaths of any of her corpses were the most crucial; they could live or they could just as easily fall apart. It all depended on how much they desired to live again.

Above her the man moved, his lethargic limbs dragging themselves out onto the floor. His legs held him for a split second, only to give in under his weight. He crumpled by her side, growled in pain and exasperation, and exclaimed, "_Naraku_."

_Naraku?_ "No, you are Bankotsu." Her eyes, the color of moss, stared at him in a mixture of satisfaction and excitement.

There was a pause, then, "Are you the fuck who's trying to bring me back to life?" His naked form hardly fazed her. He got on all fours in front of her, as if trying to appear threatening, but the weakness in his body betrayed his façade.

She stood, dusting her dirtied robes condescendingly, and said, "Yes. I am your Mistress and creator."

He snorted.

"Would you like to have more energy? To feel more alive?"

"You are no one's Mistress."

"Bankotsu, your soul is too greedy to turn me down," she chortled while she circled the cave, back to the small ceramic table that held her necromancy utensils—the potions and scrolls and herbs that made her magic possible. "You have a choice; I give every one of my undead a choice. You can choose to go back to the nothingness I fished you from, or you can live and obey me."

A long silence settled in the room. She wanted to appear as stubborn as he was, but deep down prayed that he chose to be her thrall. She needed the strength of someone such as him. She needed Bankotsu of the Band of Seven, or someone as powerful as him, to kill the Man with Many Faces and save her soul.

"How pretentious of you. I've been brought back to life once already, don't you know? And I refuse to make any pact with devils such as you."

She whipped around. "I am not a devil."

"You fuck around with the undead, what, you think you're a saint? Why thank you, my Mistress, for rescuing my rotted spirit, but guess what, I think it's a little too late."

His blue eyes burned in defiance. They glared at each other, the seconds dragging by a little too uncomfortably for her taste. Should she shut him down? Was this soul a lost cause? Who else could be powerful enough to be a match against the Man with Many Faces? Before she could reach a decision, however, he finally said, "But I suppose you are right. My soul is too fucking greedy to turn this down. What are the terms of my life?"

The necromancer had to suppress the upward curling of her lips. "You are to be my thrall—"

"Yeah, yeah, and what? Kill the cocky hanyou Inuyasha for you? The bitch priestess Kikyo? The dimwit wolf Koga? Maybe fuck you witless? Or warm your bed with romance? What's it gonna be?"

She approached him, twisting her palms in circles and creating swirls of magic the color of her blood. She tossed the wispy energy ball onto his chest, where it was readily absorbed. This was the remaining energy he needed to stand and to live. "No. I don't know who any of them are, and I'll be dammed if I let a _corpse_ have his way with me. I practice necromancy, not necrophilia."

"Naraku?"

"No! Who in the world is this Naraku you keep bringing up?"

Bankotsu approached her and stood before her, omnipotent in all his naked glory. She would have blushed, but was used to the sight from years of necromancy practice. "What do I have to do, little girl?"

He knew of his handsome wiles, and was an expert at using them, for he was making her feel downright uncomfortable. "You will become my protector, and when the time comes, you will aid me in defeating the Man with Many Faces."

Bankotsu lifted her chin up gently, still continuing with his farce to charm her. "Really, is that all you desire? So, do you have a name besides Mistress?"

"Wakahisa Yosei."

"How fucking appropriate."

Her hand shot at his wrist, taking a solid grasp and separating his fingers from her face, "And you're supposed to protect me, not give me the creeps."

He bowed pompously, "As you wish, Mistress."

"Yosei."

"Yosei," his eyes were glinting in amusement the entire time.

"If you wish to live, you are to protect me and do my bidding. If I die, you die. If I'm unhappy, you die. If I can't use you to kill my enemies, you die. Honestly, it should be simple for a mercenary of your caliber. You wish to live, don't you?"

"I'm all yours," the smirk on his lips brought shivers to her very spine. This was the first time she resurrected a thrall with wits and freewill, and certainly the first time she resurrected someone as powerful as him. And something inside her told her he was beginning to realize this as well. Would it be her undoing? The alternatives seemed just as appalling. Bankotsu was her one and only shot at an undammed afterlife, as ironic as it sounded.

Despite how stupid and reckless it was, she was to become the necromancer with the rogue thrall.

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	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter #2**_

Bankotsu saw the steely shades of dawn when he stepped outside. The sky was painted in silvery hues of blues and yellows, the sun barely rising in the horizon. The necromancer Yosei was by the porch of their forest cabin. She sat still and hooded under those dirty, blue robes of hers, like an ethereal apparition, ready to be whisked away at the slightest disturbance.

He knew they were connected somehow, and so she was also able to sense his presence the moment he stepped out. "I never imagined a corpse could sleep as much as you have." Her voice was thick and throaty, as if she wasn't very much used to using it.

His upper lip twitched in annoyance. "I do what I want. What's the rush? I'm a dead thrall, remember?"

"A cheeky, dead thrall."

Bankotsu sensed that she was about to start again with one of her _I'm your Mistress!_ rants, so he quickly added in, "I'm ready to leave, my _most precious Mistress_!"

"_Yosei_," Yosei's mossy greens rolled before she disappeared around to the back of the cabin.

Earlier he had wondered if this was her home, but the place was too empty to be any proper type of dwelling. Besides her necromancy instruments down in the basement, there was hardly a sleeping futon inside. It lacked food, water, to the point that Bankotsu wondered if she was also dead and did not require the basic needs of a human. Of course, that was when he learned that Yosei wasn't human, nor was she demon. She was a sort of magical entity that used her powers to resurrected unfortunate souls, much like himself. The man he was supposed to protect her from, The Man of Many Faces, was also a being like her.

Yosei emerged from the back of the cabin accompanied by a confusing creature that made him recoil in surprise. She tugged on the reigns of a monster with the body of a massive horse, the legs, talons, and head of an eagle, and two massive leathery wings, like that of a dragon. The creature screeched and reigned back at the sight of him. Bankotsu, too, took a step back. "What in the devil's hell is that?" He felt foolish for being frightened of it, after all he was just a thrall, _a dead thrall_, but how the hell else was he supposed to react to this?

"This is Storm. He is also a thrall."

"What kind of god-forsaken creature is he supposed to be?" Eventually Bankotsu approached them. It had a pair of golden eyes that dilated and detailed him in suspicion, as if it were contemplating on whether or not to attack him.

"He is unlike any other. I pieced him together from a mountain horse, a great demon eagle, and a wyvern." Bankotsu was impressed. She was certainly creative. A mount like this would be a formidable opponent to anyone that threatened her safety, if she ever needed protection.

"You are quite paranoid," Bankotsu whistled as he watched her mount the creature named Storm.

"I have enemies, and I am too weak to be of any match against them. All I have is my necromancy." His eyes matched the intensity of hers. He wondered what dangers his association with her would bring him. Perhaps this task was just as dangerous—or exciting!—as the one he had when he worked for Naraku. "So, is the great leader of the Band of Seven scared of a mere chimera?"

"Are you fucking stupid? I would be retarded if I weren't at least concerned about it. I mean, look at it! It looks like death."

Storm reigned back and leered at Bankotsu in response.

"Yeah, yeah, and you have been there and back so come on, you're boring me."

"As you wish, my _most precious bitch Mistress_," Bankotsu, too, leered at her as he climbed up behind her. "You know, I'm useless without my companion," he purred on her ear after Storm took them up to the skies, very well knowing that his proximity was bound to make her uncomfortable.

She wiggled, probably getting the chills, and told him, "Don't even dream it. That demon sword of yours was destroyed."

"_What?"_ His outburst made Storm falter uneasily underneath them.

"Don't scream in my ear!" She smacked his hand, which was wrapped around her waist for support.

This time, more seriously, Bankotsu asked, "What happened to my Banryu?"

"It was destroyed, ok? I don't know how nor care to find out. All I know is that it doesn't exist anymore. Trust me; I tried to acquire it before I resurrected you."

"I'm useless without it." Bankotsu said lamely, slowly letting the news about his Companion sink in.

She tsk'ed. "Nonsense, we'll find you a new weapon." Yosei pointed at the rising sun over the mountain ahead, "The valley ahead is littered with small human villages; we'll surely find one that has a blacksmith that can recommend us some alternatives."

Her suggestion made his blood boil. In a sudden flash of anger, the hand that had wrapped around her waist shot up to grapple at her neck. "Are you suggesting that I make due with a simple, human sword?"

Storm's flight faltered, surely synchronizing Yosei's unease. "Bankotsu, stop it—"

"I am beyond human. Do not insult my capabilities," his whispered words were venomous.

"_Bankotsu_!" She gasped, and at once he realized he was biting off the hand that fed him, so he finally released her.

She breathed, frantically massaging her neck. "You're mad!"

He huffed, "Give me a break. I am a hardened killer. What, did you expect me to be a cuddle bunny ready to massage your feet and cradle you when your Man of Many Faces comes after you?"

"No! I get it! You're a sociopath with a complete disregard for other people's lives, _but you will respect me_."

There was a moment of excruciating silence in which Bankotsu pondered actually jumping off the flying chimera. He _supposed_ he shouldn't be attacking her, but the girl was nothing short of irritating. "Fine. Whatever."

"I don't expect you to use a human weapon, but we have to start our search somewhere. I'm not a warrior, so I don't particularly have a list of demon smiths at my disposal."

"I apologize." He crossed his arms, his eyes on anywhere but the back of her.

Storm flew them over to the green mountainside for less than an hour, an awkward silence settling between them. Upon her command, the thrall began to make its decent at the outskirts of the first village they encountered. And so, after circling the skies once or twice, Storm landed them within the underbrush at the western outskirts of the village, which was now bustling with the day to day tasks of its earlier risers.

"How can you be so sure we'll find a smith here?" He had asked her as they dismounted, and she had simply told him, "Humans never fail to surprise me."

They were a conspicuous pair, he knew; Yosei with her hooded, grimy face, and Bankotsu with his dirty armor and stink of mud and death. The villagers stopped about their business to watch them pass, their pails and scythes and rice bags hanging limply from their hands as they gapped and goggled at them. "The inn is a great place to get information," she had said, striking him as incredibly naïve and stupid. Their only solace, he knew, was that they at least looked human.

"Hold it right there!" Someone bellowed from behind just as they were merely steps away from the local inn. Two armored men rounded on them in a second, probably from the village militia. They carried lances made out of wood and iron that Bankotsu was sure he could snap in a heartbeat. "What business brings you to our peaceful settlement?"

_Oh we're just honeymooners on a tryst_, Bankotsu felt like saying, just to mess with them. Instead, Yosei brusquely answered with another question, "Where is your smith?"

"Let the man speak, you insolent tramp," One said while the other made to pull down her hood. Bankotsu grasped the warrior's wrist before it could come close to her face, stopping him at once.

"Unhand me!"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, will ya?" Bankotsu nearly laughed in derision when the other one pointed the sharp end of his lance at him.

Soon enough the two soldiers were joined by three more, but before a scuffle could break out, the sound of a terrible horn erupted from the eastern edges of the village. Battle cries and shouts followed, and suddenly the village was enveloped in a great panic.

"What in the devil's hell is going on?" Yosei grumbled beside him.

Bankotsu squinted in the direction of the ruckus but was blinded by the rising sun. It was the screams of agonizing pain and the clashing sounds of steel on steel that gave clue to the massacre that was ensuing. "Bandits," he announced.

He didn't have to wait for Yosei's command; Bankotsu rushed forward, his innards awakening with the sounds of the carnage ahead. He itched for a good fight. He drowned out Yosei's protests behind him—something about her not being sure how much life energy he had a his disposal—and picked up the first steel spear he encountered.

Bankotsu joined the carnage in earnest. The small village militia was no match for the bigger number of outlaws who used the rising sun to shroud themselves in blinding sunlight. He slashed one bandit and parried another, warm blood splattering his face and garments. The spear vibrated in his hands as he blocked and impaled. Five to one they ganged up on him, but this was nothing compared to what Bankotsu could handle. Still, more and more emerged from the bushes outside the village.

Eventually Bankotsu's spear snapped in two, forcing him to use his fists instead. It was when they were overwhelming him that Bankotsu felt a foreign, different sort of sensation inside him. It was worry, concern, terror, yet he knew this wasn't something coming from within him. His adrenaline was on overdrive, pumping hard on his dead veins, to be worrying about trifling things like concern and terror. It was then that a realization dawned on him. Bankotsu whipped around—wincing when the tip of a bandit's spear cut through his side—and met Yosei's eyes. She had a terrified expression plastered on her grimy face. He was synchronizing her emotions, _and she was terrified for his life_.

He wanted to tell her to chill the fuck out, but at that moment she began twirling her hands, creating that wispy energy he had seen just the night before. Yosei split the wispy, crimson ball into smaller versions of itself and shot them forward at the dead bodies that littered the space around him. The corpses came to life much like he had done and began aiding him and the villagers upon her command.

The morning was filled with the dying cries of bandits and villagers alike. Some of the homes to the eastern border had been put to the torch, while the women, the sickly, and the children had been herded in to the inn, which, due to Bankotsu's efforts, was the only building spared from the bandit's destruction. And it was during his last few battles that Bankotsu began experiencing exhaustion unlike anything he had felt before. He glanced at Yosei, wondering if he was just synchronizing how she felt, but she looked to be fine.

Bankotsu stopped to watch the carnage before him, his breathing labored. A dying outlaw went at him with an axe, but Yosei swiftly directed a mindless thrall to take the hit for him. His vision blurred; all he wanted was to give in to the crushing weight over him. Yosei approached him angrily. "What is the matter with you? Fight!" She yelled.

He wanted to sass something back, but lacked the energy to do so.

"I know you're dead, but your body matters, you ungrateful, heartless prick! I toiled for seven days and seven nights to remake you!" She went on again.

"_Oh_… _just shut up_," he told her before doubling over and propelling bouts of red fluid (blood?) out of his mouth. She screamed—a high-pitched, little girl sort of scream—which made him chuckle in sick amusement in-between the bouts of red puke that flowed out of his mouth.

"_What the fuck_? Bankotsu? Get up!"

He had fallen on the ground, the puke and the blood and the dirt and the bandits' remains getting on his braid and clothes, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Yosei's rounded, mossy green eyes, and all he could think was what a terrible necromancer she had been, after all.

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	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter #3_**

Even after the battle was won, the humans had the nerve to kick her out of their village. "You brought this upon us, you witch! You came with your curse and now we've lost everyone!" Yosei was used to being called a witch, as she was used to being called a curse; she was deemed a curse from the moment she was born—this was not new to her. It wasn't the ignorant name-calling that infuriated her. What pissed her off the most was that they were too blind to recognize that _she had saved them_.

Yosei did not bring the bandits, nor did she have any grievance against the village. The whole ordeal happened because she and Bankotsu came at the exact moment as the band of outlaws. They were passersby, passersby who happened to save the villagers' lives. If anything, the humans should be grateful.

They still kicked her out. The few villagers with any will or energy left in them came at her with their not-so-threatening wooden spears and their all-too-accusing glares and hollered at her to get out. And Yosei would have complied much faster, but alas, she had Bankotsu, limp and unconscious, to think about.

Thankfully for her, Storm sensed her predicament and came to her rescue.

Yosei glared back at the few villagers watching from the sidelines while Storm dug Bankotsu out from the pile of dead bodies. "Imbeciles. You think I brought the bandits upon you?" If it made no matter whether she was innocent or not, why not give them a real curse? She pulled out the small bag that hung from a golden chain around her neck and fingered its contents. The bag contained a mix of dirt and ashes that worked as a medium to her magic. "If a curse is what you think I brought, a curse is what you shall get."

She tossed a pinch of the dust, which was blown and scattered by the soft, morning breeze, and whispered, "Devils, be unleashed, and let not a single soul be at peace."

The wind whispered around her, the demons that prowled the underworld awakening at her command. Half of her felt rotten for cursing the poor villagers, but her pride soon overcame her guilt. The same always happened anytime she tried to be a heroine. Humans would blame and chastise her for their shortcomings, never considering that for once she might be the good guy in the story.

Yosei whirled around and mounted Storm after Bankotsu's limp body was safely secured on the saddle, and off into the skies they went.

They flew for a day to Old Takako's hut. Bankotsu's problem was one Yosei couldn't ignore for long. Something about the way she resurrected him failed them. Mayhap her magic was not strong enough for a thrall like him, or mayhap he wished to seize existing. Either way, right now she didn't have the power to find out, but knew Old Takako would have the answers. _I need Bankotsu—or someone like him—or else _He_ might…_

Old Takako's hut was safely hidden in a haunted grove that teemed with demons as old as the earth itself. Yosei knocked hard on the gnarled door while Storm shook Bankotsu off as if he were a pesky bug. Yosei coughed a giggle when Bankotsu's body hit the ground, landing in an awkward, twisted position.

The door opened by itself, so Yosei dragged Bankotsu's body inside with some difficulty. As usual, the hut reeked of herbs and smoke and old spices. Yosei remembered how terrified she had been the first time she visited Old Takako's. The first time she came through this door was when she first ran away from her family. Back then she had been an idealist and thought the world was a fair place; how she was wrong.

"Well well well, if it isn't the little Yosei," Takako's raspy voice echoed from the depths of her hut. The witch was a chain smoker—she smoked so much Yosei was surprised she still had a voice to speak with. "You've brought me a little present?"

Yosei kicked Bankotsu's body forward and quickly closed the door behind her, very well aware that Takako got angry whenever the fumes of her smoking exited the hut. It was weird; she liked to keep the shit bottled inside.

"No, grandmamma, he's all mine."

Takako lifted herself with some difficulty from her pile of furs and wobbled towards Yosei and the unconscious body. Takako was an ancient, obese woman with a tuft of white hairs over her upper lip, which was amusing, since the hair on her head was noticeably thinning.

"He is cute," the witch said before puffing on her long pipe.

"I brought him back to life… but… he just sort of fell apart."

Yosei always felt on edge when she came to Takako's hut. The hut was filled to the brim with the spirits of ghouls and demons and of unfortunate humans. They were invisible, as most spirits, but Yosei could still feel them roaming around her and all about her. They circled her and whispered unintelligible things in her ear, making the hairs on her back stand on edge.

"Wake him up."

"I can't." Yosei flipped him over and gently brushed the dirt and the hairs from his face.

"Sure you can, child. I said, wake him up. Don't tell me you came all the way to my humble hut just to waste my time."

_Grandmamma, you have all the time in the world_, she wanted to tell her. Instead, Yosei did as she was told. She created the crimson, swirly ball and pushed it right through his chest. Surprisingly enough, Bankotsu took in a desperate gulp of air and woke from his unconscious state.

"But… how?" Yosei's mouth hung open as she watched it happen. Mayhap Old Takako's magic had done all the work this time.

"That won't be enough," Takako tsk'ed and hobbled back to her seat of furs, as if she was done with her diagnosis.

"What the fuck happened?" Bankotsu blurted out angrily the moment his eyes fluttered open. He tried to sit up, but only managed to lean his body awkwardly against the hut's wooden wall.

"You fell dead! And I tried everything to bring you back! I thought you had gone!" Yosei knelt next to him as if he was her child. She was half proud and half relieved that he came to again. "Grandmamma, I don't understand. I tried to resurrect him that way earlier, but it didn't work."

"_Yosei_—" Bankotsu grasped a handful of her robes, pulling her close to him. There was confusion and anger on those determined, blue eyes of him. "I'm not in the mood for games," he said through gritted teeth, "You said you would bring me back to life."

"I thought I taught you better! You disappoint me, Yosei!" Takako bellowed from the other side of the hut. "This is no ordinary thrall. You gave him brains and freewill, but you did not give him enough life to survive."

Both Bankotsu and Yosei looked at her, speechless.

"You will have to give him the breath of life."

_The breath of life_. Yosei knew what that meant, and she did not like it one bit. The breath of life meant that she had to give him a piece of her breath whenever he needed energy, as if she were his feeding stock. It was a more intimate form of resurrection. By doing so, she was taking a piece of her life and giving it to him, each single time.

"Where are we? And what is she talking about?" Bankotsu's questions went ignored.

"Is that the only way?" Yosei's voice was hardly louder than a whisper.

"Yes. If you want this thrall under your service, _properly_, that is what you will have to do."

Yosei's gaze met with Bankotsu's. She could feel his confusion as much as she was sure he could feel her uncertainty. _That is what I will have to do._

"Yosei?" Bankotsu was of a youthful countenance, with dark hair that came as a stark contrast to his pale skin. Yosei detailed him for a second, blushing as she admitted to herself that he was handsome to her; handsome whenever he realized he was at her mercy; handsome until his mouth betrayed the rotted soul that hid underneath. And she had a choice—she could choose to resurrect someone tamer, someone more grateful that would heed her every command, or she could choose to take the gamble that was giving him life. Bankotsu was as unsteady and unpredictable as her most dangerous alchemy experiments.

Mayhap he could sense what she was thinking, for there was uncertainty in those blue eyes of his. Then, she made her decision.

"_Ssh_." Yosei leaned forward, stopping only when her lips were grazing his. She held her breath the entire time until she was close enough, and then she _blew_.

Almost as if he knew what do to, Bankotsu stole all her breath away. Yosei fell backward, her breathing panicked as she tried to regain control over it. Everything about him changed in an instant. Bankotsu was once again strong and omnipotent, no longer restrained by the ambiguity of his living situation. He got up to his feet and towered over her.

He leaned down and for a second Yosei thought he was going to maim her. Instead, he offered her his hand, which she graciously took.

"There you go, all better now," Takako said in amusement, never once bothering to move from her seat. "From now on you will have to do that. Oh and you probably don't have enough energy to sustain more undead besides those two."

"Yeah, _my most precious Mistress_, don't get irresponsible. You nearly killed me when you started resurrecting all those other shitty corpses around me." Bankotsu was back to his usual cheekiness.

Yosei fumed at his nerve. "You're just like those humans! Ungrateful!"

"What?"

Old Takako yawned loudly. "That's exactly why I never bother with intelligent thralls. They have a mind of their own, and you never know when you'll get an annoying one." It was smart of Bankotsu not to sass anything back to the old witch, for she was capable of darker magic Yosei couldn't even fathom to perform. Instead, he just glared at her.

"So, little Yosei, the fact that you've brought this scoundrel back to life means bad news to you, if I had to take a guess." Takako puffed on her long pipe, one eye glinting maliciously at her. She was a demon of the dark arts, a selfish being whose only interest was to keep herself satisfied and content. It made no matter if she had been her mentor once; if the Man of Many Faces came looking for her, Takako would turn her over in a heartbeat.

Bankotsu's gaze went from Yosei to the old woman, back and forth, and Yosei just gulped.

"He's still fixated on you? The demon Ichiroumaru?"

Outside the heavens clamored loudly with an incoming storm.

"He's coming for me—"

"And he won't stop until he takes you _all for himself._" There was amusement in Old Takako's voice. Her lips curled upward, as if she wanted to see it unfold.

The spirits in the hut went into a mad frenzy that only Yosei could sense. They whirled around her, chanting and grunting words of her impending doom that she couldn't quit comprehend. Visions of them flashed in front of her, their faces distorted in sick delight, very well knowing that her struggle would only delay the inevitable. Old Takako must have the sensed just as much, as she had the same twisted smile from the demons of her vision.

Yosei's muscles rippled in uncontrollable shivers and she stepped back. There was no need to imagine what Ichiroumaru wanted with her; she saw it in the spirits' gleeful expressions, in Takako's knowing stare. Yosei didn't get very far though. At that moment Bankotsu grasped her arm and brought her in a tight embrace. He held her close, easing the shivers until she calmed.

His proximity eased her, and it was then that she realized that he _understood_.

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